


Just One

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s easier this way.

Sort of.

*

He can feel it – that tension in the air sometimes when they fall into an easy quiet. It is nothing like it used to be, all barbs and hostility and resentment. They have been through that cycle more times than he cares to recall. No, now there is something more potent, more tempting. The promise of… more.

Sparkler remarks on it. He wishes he wouldn’t.

*

He wants to be the man he was when he was young and stupid and thought love would conquer all. That man – that boy, really – had not been bruised and bent by love, had not lost love, had not feared love. He is older, wiser now.

He wishes for just a breath of that youth. He would not waste it on anything less than her lips.

*

They share a tent, because the Bull takes up one on his own and the Inquisitor insisted on taking the watch.

“Varric?”

He opens his eyes. She is scant inches from him, eyes soft in the darkness. He could lean forward now -

“Yes, Seeker?”

She looks like she might say something, or move - 

“Goodnight.”

He offers a smile. “Sweet dreams, Seeker.”

And as one, they roll away from the moment. 

Just a breath of youth, he thinks. _Just one._


	2. Chapter 2

It is easier this way.

She keeps reminding herself of this.

*

She can feel it, the way his glances linger long after she has stopped talking. Oh, she already knows she is just as quick to stare, just as likely to trace the lines of his face with her eyes. But neither acknowledges the other, save for those wonderfully private smiles when nobody else is around.

It is rather like a game, she supposes, except it is devastating and cruel.

*

Cowardice is not a trait she aspires for. Even the thought of it is enough to set her on edge, but… well, there is little else that will suit the feeling that strikes her whenever she thinks about Varric. The thought of his smile, that his lips might be put to better use… the notion sets a mood upon her, a restlessness that does not abate.

She wants to kiss him. She truly wants to kiss him. But she is no young, brash maiden. She could not simply – no! Ridiculous. People did not just – they did not just kiss.

She wants to.

*

They share a drink in the inn, because victories are hard-fought and the Inquisitor insisted on getting the first round.

“Seeker?”

She looks up from her mug to meet his gaze. He is close, closer than he any right to be, sat with her in the quiet corner as Sera and Bull put on a show of strength. She could kiss him, just a few inches further -

“Yes, Varric?”

He looks like he might reach for her, lips parted and -

“Cheers.”

She smiles, raising her drink. “Cheers.”

And as one, they drink long and deep, drowning the moment.

Just one kiss, she thinks. _Just one._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it."

He wakes up, and -

There is something different in the air today. He is not quite sure what, but something of a spring in his step, a breath of youth as he steps into the sunlight. He could fight a dragon. He could outrun a bear. Hell, he could - 

He could.

*

Her fists are tight balls, a fire raging in her chest. Today, she thinks, today she would do it. Today she would tell him – show him, even, with trembling fingers and nervous glances, whatever it took. Today, she would -

She would.

*

They meet in the gardens, a maddeningly public place.

“Seeker!”

“Varric!”

Their too-loud voices clash, notes of near-panic in hers and near-terror in his, and both give them pause. Around them, people spare them a glance. Cassandra pulls him into the quiet of an alcove.

And then the stars align.

He raises an eyebrow in near-disbelief, and she manages a quick nod before returning the question through a lip trapped between teeth. He answers with a smile, quickly mirrored.

“To hell with it,” they murmur as one, hands grasping as they gravitate towards one another, meeting in the middle with a clash of lips.

Her arms wrap around his neck, his hands cradling the back of her head, heated breaths and lingering kisses as a strange laughter overtakes them, quiet and giggly and utterly ridiculous.

“We are too old for this,” she whispers.

“Only as old as you feel, Seeker,” he retorts, “and you feel _fantastic._ ”


End file.
